by Lucy Evanson
She let out her breath and put her thumb against the deadbolt. It was already fully in place, but she pushed on it just to make sure, then turned and leaned against the door. The moonlight, which up until now had always tinted her room with a beautiful, almost magical light, seemed cold and creepy, and as she ran her hand over her brow she realized that she was perspiring.
She went to sit on the edge of the bed, and another chill overcame her, making her shiver violently. She was sweating and freezing, exhausted and wide awake, scared and angry all at once. She took a kerchief from the nightstand drawer and blotted her forehead, then she closed her eyes and tried to calm down. The door is locked, he went away, and tomorrow I’m going away too. Everything will be fine, she told herself. She believed it, too, although one thing was very clear: the old house was not far enough away. Not nearly far enough away.
Melanie lit the lamp, squinting in the sudden light, then pulled a ribbon from the drawer and tied her hair back. Slowly and quietly, she went to the closet and opened the door. Her small trunk and a few traveling bags were on the floor inside, pushed out of the way to the back, since she hadn’t expected to need them anytime soon. She pulled them all out into the room and opened each one, then stood up and glanced over at the bureau. She would start there, taking what she needed and packing the bags before moving to the clothing stored in the closet.
A powerful yawn overcame her just then, and she glanced over at the bed. The comforter, so fluffy and soft, was awfully inviting, and as she stepped close and smoothed the sheet with her hand, she could still feel the warmth where she’d lain. It would be so easy to just lie down for a few minutes, rest her eyes, and then get up to pack—but she already knew how that would turn out. Melanie pulled the sheet tight and tucked it under the mattress, then spread the comforter out, covering the pillow. She would sleep no more tonight. There was not much time and there was a lot to do.
Chapter 2
July 20, 1860
Mineral Point, Wisconsin
David studied the man closely, trying to find the smallest hint of what he was planning, but the Indian wasn’t giving a single sign. If anything, the man’s eyes seemed to be drilling into David, and he wondered for a moment whether there was any truth to those old stories that used to float around the frontier. The old-timers used to say that the Indians could see into the soul of a man if you let them look at you too long. Then again, they also warned against taking your eyes off of them. It was a bit of a conundrum.
Matt leaned over toward David and spoke softly. “I don’t like this. He’s hiding something.”
The Indian’s eyes flashed over to Matt, then back to David. It was only for a moment—if David would have blinked, he would have missed it—but it felt significant. Like Matt’s on to something, he thought.
His eyes narrowed further as he stared at the man across from him. The Lakota was a handsome young fellow, all wiry muscle and thick black hair swept back. He looked like a predator ready to pounce. And I bet he thinks I’m the prey.
“Matt, I do believe you’re right. He’s hiding something,” David murmured. “I fold.” He threw his cards on the table and sighed.
The Indian cocked his head to the side, watching David, and only slowly did a grin appear. “You should have called,” he said, and displayed his own cards.
“Dammit, Sam!” David pounded his fist on the table, making the shot glasses jump. “All you had was two pair?”
Sam’s grin was wide and bright as he leaned forward and scooped the pot his way. “All I had and all I needed,” he said. “Sooner or later you’re going to learn when I’m bluffing.”
David grimaced as he shook his head. “We’ve been playing cards together for over ten years,” he muttered. “I think that would have happened by now.”
Matt reached to David’s discarded hand and flipped the cards over one by one, letting out a low whistle. “You folded with an eight-high straight? Shouldn’t have done that.”
“I shouldn’t have listened to you, you mean,” David said. He turned and waved to the waitress. “Cassie, bring over another bottle.”
“Hold on there, Cassie,” Sam called, then turned to the others. “Sorry, guys, but I have to get going.”
“No, you don’t,” David said. “You have to give us a chance to win our money back.”
“You mean a chance to give me more of your money? I’d like that,” he said, “but I really need to get on home now. It’s getting late and I want to help get the kids to bed.”
“I thought you said you and Kate have a nanny. Isn’t that what she’s for?”
“Yeah, but...well, maybe you’ll understand when you have kids.”
David shook his head and turned to Matt. “Can you believe this guy? Nine o’clock and he’s already going home.”
“It’s a shame, that’s for sure.”
“Hey, you remember that night we rode all the way over to Lancaster just because he wanted to see that girl working at that bar?”
Sam laughed sharply. “You mean Lorraine? I haven’t thought about her in a long time. But I seem to remember that I wasn’t the only one who wanted to see her.”
“Well, she was a pretty girl,” David allowed. “Still, it was your idea. So we went all the way out there and it turns out the place had burned down, remember? No girl and not even anything to drink at the end of the ride.”
“And then by the time we got back, everything was closed up here too,” Matt said.
“All I got out of that night was a moonlit ride with the likes of you two,” David said. “A real night to remember, that one.”
“No kidding,” Matt said. “But anyway, I need to get going as well.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“I’m not,” Matt said. “I’m on the first train out tomorrow morning. I still need to fill out some order slips, I still have to pack, and I want to get some sleep tonight too. Gonna be a long ride tomorrow.”
“Well, I’ll be,” David said, then turned and waved to the waitress. “Cassie, bring over that bottle anyway,” he said. “I’ll have one more, and just put everything on my tab.” He turned to the others. “There’s only one thing more depressing than drinking alone,” he said.
“Not drinking at all,” Sam and Matt said in unison.
“You guys heard me say that before?”
“Once or twice,” Sam murmured. He folded the bills from his winnings and put them in his wallet while the waitress poured a final shot of whiskey.
David lifted the glass and nodded toward Matt and Sam. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure, as always.” He downed the drink in one gulp, and the three of them rose and headed for the door. It was early on a Friday night, and the place was quite busy; as soon as they had pushed back their chairs, a pair of dusty and tired-looking cowboys made their way to the table and happily fell into place before the waitress could even come over to clean up.
There were so many people, in fact, that it was easier to take the long way to the door just to avoid squeezing their way through all the tables and chairs. David led the way directly to the side of the room and then headed along the bar, passing by the throng of customers standing there drinking.
“Good riddance.”
He stopped and turned toward the bar. There was the usual collection of customers there: miners intent on drinking their weekly pay in just one evening, businessmen in finely-cut suits, rough-looking women who would have been happy to spend some time with either in exchange for some reasonable compensation. After a moment, one of the miners glanced over his shoulder and fixed his eye on David.
“Did you say something?”
“I didn’t say nothing to you. But your friend there needs to keep on going,” the miner said, nodding towards Sam.
“We were already going,” David said. “But now I’m thinking we might change our minds and stay right here. My friend included.”
The miner’s lip curled back and he craned his neck, trying to find the barten
der. “Say, what kind of place is this, anyway?” he called out. “You know you got an Indian in here?”
The barkeep was a huge man, thick with muscle, and his tiny bow tie looked almost comical on him. It wasn’t his fault, though; David suspected that any decoration would have looked out of place, just as a scarf would have looked silly on a grizzly bear. “If you have any problems, I suggest you gentlemen take it outside before I have to get involved,” he said.
Sam snorted at the miner, not even bothering to hide a smirk. “Let’s go, Dave,” he said. “I have more important things to do than waste my time with this guy.”
“Hold on a second.” David stepped closer to the bar and looked the miner up and down. He was a typical digger, no different than any other of a thousand men who worked in the mines: short and wiry, with a dull look in his eyes and a dirt-stained face. He looked like he’d tried to wash up before coming out tonight, but his neck revealed some grime that David expected only time itself could wear away. “You heard the bartender. You want to continue this conversation outside?”
“I ain’t got no problem with you, mister. I just don’t like Indians coming in here with us decent folk.”
“If you have a problem with him, then you do have a problem with me.”
“Let it go,” Sam muttered, but David ignored him.
“And believe me, out of all the people in here, you’re not one of the decent folk.”
The digger’s eyes widened slightly. “You keep talking, boy, and you’re going to end up missing teeth.”
The bartender cleared his throat, like thunder on the prairie. “I’ve heard just about enough,” he said. “Am I going knock sense into one of you or all of you?”
“None of us,” Matt said, reaching for David’s arm and pulling him toward the door. “Well, maybe just him,” he added, pointing to the miner.
“Let’s talk outside,” Sam murmured, taking David’s other arm and, with Matt, walking toward the door.
“But I could have taken him, easy,” David said, once the others herded him out to where their horses were tied. “Any one of us could have whupped that guy without breaking a sweat.”
“I know,” Sam said. “But he’s not worth it.”
“Next time,” Matt added.
David shook his head. “You know, there were times when we wouldn’t have let something like that go without getting into it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sam said. “And I’d still be ready if it were really serious. That’s why I carry this,” he said, lifting the gunstock club that hung from his belt. “But nowadays, if I have to choose between dusting it up with some drunk miner and putting my girl to bed, I’ll take my little girl.”
David looked around, still somewhat surprised to find himself outside, and slowly looked from Sam to Matt. “What the hell happened to us?”
Matt laughed. “Life happened,” he said. “We’ve got responsibilities now. I’ve got a business, Sam has a business and a family on top of that—”
“So what? I have a business too, and I’m still down here most nights.”
It was hard to tell in the dim light, but David was fairly sure that Matt and Sam exchanged a brief look.
“Well....” Matt began, then trailed off.
“Here’s the thing, Dave. Matt and I are getting old, but you haven’t changed a bit,” Sam said. “It’s like you’re the exact same person you were when you were twenty.”
David’s eyes narrowed and he nodded slowly as he considered what Sam had said. “I noticed that you two were looking a little...aged,” he said, a gleam in his eye. “I just didn’t want to say anything and make you feel bad. But since you brought it up....”
“Hasn’t changed a bit,” Matt echoed, shaking his head but unable to hide a grin. “Are we gonna get going?”
“You guys go on,” David said. “I’m thinking I might just sit out here for a while and take some air. Who knows, maybe I’ll go back in and spend a little time with Cassie.”
Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “It was good to see you, Dave.”
“You too. It was almost like the old days,” he said. “When’s the next time you’ll be in town?”
“Tough to say. A couple of weeks, probably. I’ll stop out and say hello,” Matt said. “See you later, gentlemen.” He nodded at Sam, turned on his heel, and headed off into the night.
David turned to Sam. “You sure I can’t convince you to have one last drink?”
Sam shook his head. “If I have another one I won’t be able to find my way home.”
“So what? Racer knows the way.”
Sam patted his horse’s neck. “He does,” he allowed, “but he can’t put me back on if I fall off. I’ll see you later.”
David nodded at him as Sam easily pulled himself up into the saddle and wheeled the horse around, setting out at a brisk trot. In only a few moments he had passed beneath the street’s last gaslight and disappeared into the evening.
Charger nickered, as if to ask well, what are you waiting for? David reached out and stroked the stallion’s neck absentmindedly as he turned to look back towards the front windows of Sally’s. The lights were bright, the music was loud, and the girls were pretty. If he went back in he’d surely have a lively time.
So why does that sound more depressing than anything else right now? He had spent countless nights in the saloon, chasing countless women and downing countless drinks. He did that all the time. But maybe that’s the problem, he thought.
Not that the alternative was much better. In fact, it was almost too sad to think about. Heading home on a Friday night at nine o’clock. And nearly sober, to boot. David tugged the brim of his hat a bit lower, hiding from the few passers-by, then grabbed the saddle horn and pulled himself up onto Charger’s back.
The one thing that consoled him as he rode out of town was that he was leaving on his own accord. If he really wanted to stay longer, he could stay. He wasn’t like Sam or Matt. He made his own rules; there was no child needing a bedtime story, no order slips that needed to be filled out, nothing that kept him from doing whatever he damn well felt like. That’s how it was, and that’s how it always would be. Like they said, I’m still the exact same person I was a decade ago. I haven’t changed a bit. He was halfway home when it struck him that it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
~ ~ ~
When he stepped inside the house, he was surprised to see light spilling into the hallway from the kitchen, and there was the smell of something freshly baked welcoming him home. He hung his hat near the door and followed the scent to the kitchen.
“You’re up late.”
Polly was just pulling a pie out of the oven. She set it on the stovetop, closed the oven door and looked at the clock in the corner. “And you’re home early. Real early. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I just felt like coming home.”
She came around the kitchen table. “Are you sick?” She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.
“Of course I’m not sick,” David said, brushing aside both her hand and a bit of flour she’d left on him. “Can’t a man spend a Friday night at home?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you get into a fight again?”
He snorted. “Polly, would you stop? The guys had to leave, and I just didn’t feel like hanging around the bar by myself. Is that a strawberry pie?”
She didn’t look entirely convinced by his story, but she let it pass. “It’s for later,” she said. “Did you have some supper?”
“We ate at Sally’s.”
Polly rolled her eyes. “Whatever you had there, I’m sure it wasn’t any good,” she said. “Sit down and you can have some pie.”
“I thought you said it was for later.”
“You can either sass me or have some pie. Not both.”
He grinned as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’ll take the pie,” he said. “Ma’am.”
“That’s more like it. Anyway, I’m glad you’re home
,” she said, as she fished in the silverware drawer for a fork and took a saucer from the cupboard. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
She waved a fly away from the pie and cut a thick piece for David. “Careful, it’s still hot,” she said, placing it in front of him and then taking a seat across the table. “Look, ever since your parents died, you’ve been spending more and more time in town,” she said.
“Well, of course. I’m trying to run a business here. I’ve got the bank, the butchers, all this stuff in town that needs to be seen to.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I’m talking about you spending every night in the saloon.”
“Polly, I’m just having a little fun,” he said. “It’s nothing serious.” He took a bite of pie and a blissful smile appeared on his face.
“You’ve been having a little fun for almost two years now,” she said. “Maybe it’s time you got serious.” She dropped her chin slightly and fixed him with a hard gaze. “At your age, still single....”
He groaned. “Are you going to start with this again? It hasn’t worked out too well the last...what, six times you tried to fix me up with somebody?”
“Now you’re just exaggerating. It was only five times.”
“Five girls who couldn’t find husbands on their own,” David muttered. “I don’t know why you thought I’d be interested in women like that. It was kind of sad, really.”
“Be nice, now. Those were all sweet girls.”
“That one girl—what was her name? Bertha?”
“Martha?”
“Martha,” he said. “I do believe that girl would have bested me arm-wrestling. And her sister was just as bad. No wonder they’re still spinsters. They should get used to it.”